Why I Love You
by DJ Moves
Summary: Joey's reply to Kaiba's letter. Sequel to "Why I Hate You." Finished.


Title: Why I Love You

Author: DJ

Rating: R

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or any characters mentioned in this fic. All belong to their proper copyright holders and I'm just a fan. Writing fiction. A.k.a. fan fiction.

Notes: Erpmph...you really need to read my other fic "Why I Hate You" to even get it. This is Joey's response, as many people asked for in their reviews and I, having a hard time on any of my other fics, decided to hog-tie my muse and get this put into motion and hopefully done. Probably won't be as long. I've kinda stepped out of the Joey/Jounochi mind-frame for a bit and am a little 3rd person/Kaiba/Marik/Bakura mind-set frame right now, but none of those fics are getting done so maybe this is my one true calling: In-character Joey fic. Though I still don't think he's all that in character. Or at least, he's the way I see him, but I can't imagine everyone sees him this way. Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let everyone read.

Why I Love You

Obviously, I got the letter. And yes, me, Joey, the idiot, read it. You slapped it down on my desk, your eyes doing that cute narrow thing. You leaned into me and growled, "There's your fucking answer."

"Careful, Kaiba, you don't want to lean in too close. Our lips might just lock together." I raised my eyebrow, challenging you.

Kaiba slammed his hand on the desk. "You better be careful, mutt."

I jumped up, ready to slug him. "Don't call me that, you spoiled brat!"

Your eyes widened and you stepped back. "Take that back, RIGHT NOW!" You grabbed me by the shirt collar and stood me up. "Who do you think you are, Wheeler?"

I pushed you off me and slammed my fist in your chest. You grabbed me by the wrist and pushed me against the wall.

"MISTER Wheeler, MISTER Kaiba!" our teacher shouted. "THAT is ENOUGH! Both of you! SEPARATE! After school! DETENTION!"

I shot you a dirty look and took my desk. I shoved the stupid packet of papers in my desk and narrowed my eyes at you, you stuck-up asshole.

I sighed, wanting to bang my head on my desk. You always do this shit to me. You always like to ruin my life.

Our teacher came in after school and pointed to two desk facing each other. "You two will sit facing each other. And TRY not to kill each other."

"I really don't have time for this!" you growled like a little dog.

"Sit, Seto Kaiba."

You rolled your eyes and sat down, pulling out a book and starting to read. Sighing, I joined you and pulled out the math homework. I really didn't know what I was doing as I "solved problems" until you spoke up with, "You're doing it wrong."

"I know. Your point?"

"Do you want to do it wrong?"

"I don't know how to do it right, so I do it the wrong way, got it?"

You rolled your eyes and started reading again. "You going to read it?" you asked not even looking up.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "It's entitled 'Why I Hate You.' Why the fuck would I want to read that?" I tossed it in your face. "I already know WHY you hate me. You're a jerk, always have been a jerk, and nothing will ever change that."

You threw it back at me. "You've changed that! You're the only one who's ever made me feel..."

"Like a human instead of a big fucking jerk-y asshole?"

You looked down. "Forget it."

I sighed and began looking over it. Suddenly, I felt my heart drop. My eyes jumped up to look at you. "What is this? A trip down memory lane?"

"Why don't you finish it?" you muttered.

"I thought you put this behind you. *I* put this behind *me*. Forget this, I'm out of here." I stood up and shoved my homework and the paper in my bag.

"Where are you going?" you called after me.

"No one's here making us stay. I'm going." I left you there, still reading your stupid book.

I got home, and noted my father had actually gotten up and gone to work with out trashing the house. I was tired of cleaning the house to make it look like I'm normal. But you wouldn't know that, would you? You have maids to clean up any mess Mokuba might make. You don't have a dad that pretends everything is all right and we're a normal, if not small, family. Your dad doesn't get drunk on the weekends and humiliate you.

I sat down and read the stupid letter. I held my head in my hands afterward, tears rolling down my cheeks. I couldn't even believe...

You held that against me? All I did was try to help you. Is that what this was all about? I did it because I love you. No, not paste tense. When I first saw you, I fell for you. And I'm still in love with you.

Oh believe me, I tried. Not to, I mean. I tried to forget anything we shared. But this letter only confirms it. You felt what I felt. We were in love and I screwed it up by caring, right? Because I always screw everything up. Isn't that right? Everything I've *ever* done is...ruin your life.

Nothing I ever did was right.

Nothing I ever do is right.

Nothing is keeping me here, writing this stupid letter.

So why am I doing?

The same reason you wrote me your letter?

Passion?

The passion of hatred? Loathing? Abhor-tion? Is that even a word?

Then what's me?

The passion of love? Of...adoration and...just complete and utter...permanent liking for you?

Am I even making any sense?

What you did...what you wrote...was a biography us. So what am I left to write? An apology letter?

But I don't apologize.

I don't regret telling her.

Because at least you finally had the guts to do something about it.

Though this packet of paper would make great evidence in a court case against you on Kaiba-sama, as you called him.

Not that I would do that.

But I guess you knew that, didn't you? You knew that I'm loyal. That I'd never do anything to hurt you.

So then why do you keep insisting I hurt you?

I guess I never did say, "I love you." Those words are so...overly used. So cliche. This big deal on saying them. Of course I loved you. I had thought you saw that. I had thought that you understood.

Because the way I felt about you? It couldn't be summed up in any four-letter word or even...a THOUSAND letter word. You were everything to me. You were what made life...worth it. You were the meaning to my life.

Corny, huh?

It's because I'm not good with words.

You are, you know. It's why I think you should talk more. Like you used to.

You always made things more interesting and the way you spoke, sometimes, could only be described as pure poetry.

That's before you adopted that cold look in your eyes and cold tone to your voice.

Why so you do that? I know you hate the world in some ways. But I also know you love it. More than I do. Is it because you're lonely?

You don't have to be lonely.

But I guess it's just easier that way.

I love you, Kaiba. And it hurts me to read that you don't think you deserve friends and people who care about you. It hurts me to think that you...somehow thought you deserved anything you went through. You didn't. And I'm sorry I caused you so much pain. I guess I didn't know what to do. What COULD I have done? Let you keep getting hurt? No way. That's not my kind of thing. I can't stand to see people hurt.

I guess yours was a different kind of hurt. And I guess I could of handled it better. I just can't believe that women called him and confronted him about it. I guess that's what prevented me from ever doing anything about my dad. And that I know he loves me somehow. And I do love him. All I ever had to endure was a couple drunken punches and a weekend blow job when he hadn't picked any girls up at the bar. It sounds like you had it a lot worse.

Of course, it was you who told me there was no degree of bad. Or was it evil? You said evil was evil and there's hardly a difference between a kid getting their toy stolen to an adult getting a credit card stolen.

But molestation? Abuse? I still think you had it a lot worse than my father will ever do to me. This man wasn't even your father. But you said that was the key. Kaiba-sama didn't have to care about you. My father did.

Either way, its disgusting. And I guess I'm still hoping someone will stumble in on me and save me. But I guess pride comes in the way.

Is that it? I damaged your pride?

I guess, even after your letter, I'm still not sure why you hate me.

It did let me know why I loved you. I had begun to forget after all the insults and eye rolling/narrowing you always do to me. If I saw you right now, I'd probably jump in your arms and

And what? Kiss you? I'm not that stupid. I guess I'd hand you this worthless, terrible letter and hope that you saw something in it. Saw what I try unsuccessfully to put into words. Because I love you. And you mean the world to me. I guess I'm mean to you because I hope you'll break.

As sick as that sounds, I want you to break. I want you to break and cry and need me. I need you tell me you can't live without me. Even if "with me" is only the glares and insults we share.

I'm sorry about your secret lives you were forced to go through. I think I went through them, too. But...not the same. And I still have them. My friends are great, but they will never be as close as I was with you. No one will.

And that staring off into space? Me thinking about spending the rest of my life with you. Because...that's what I wanted. And thought would happen. I saw ourselves as eighty years old, me still in your arms, and you, telling me something about life I had yet to learn.

And god, my heart is breaking and tears are rolling down my cheeks. This is worse than when you came over and laughed at me. This is realizing that's never going to happen.

We're never going to make-out in the rose bushes, we're never going to share a private kiss before class, and you're never, ever going to tell me you love me again. You're never going to smile at me and you're never going to let me hold you and you're never going to TALK. God, I loved your voice and I loved the things you'd tell me. I'd love the interesting stories you'd tell and the dreams you wanted to make real.

I remember when you first showed me any Duel Monster Cards. You explained the tournaments were a big deal. I wasn't quite sure I got it. (I really didn't.) And you'd shake your head, laugh at my stupid questions, and go through it again. You'd try to explain it to me slowly, then quickly, then through a song and dance. I remember you dancing, singing, "Then you name a monster that attacks! And that monster attacks your opponents monster! Attack position means damage and defense just means destroying!" Then I'd get confused. And you fell to your knees, holding your head in your hands. "Please, Joey, just listen carefully."

You should have made me a mock deck you cheap bastard.

But I'd explain to you, carefully, simply, and lot more rational than you, that it's hard to imagine cards fighting each other and that it should be a computer game with graphics, like a video game. You told me that was stupid, that it'd take away from "owning" and collecting the monsters. I said it could be like a hunting/catching game. Or that'd it'd be really cool if the monsters could come to life when you played them.

You shook you head and told me I was being unrealistic and sometimes you even shouted at me that I was being stupid. You said we never fought. No, we didn't. It'd mostly consist of you yelling at me, telling me how stupid and worthless I was. But you forgot about that, right? I hope you did and you just roll your eyes when you read this. But you'd really yell at me. You'd tell me I was worthless and never going to amount to shit.

I never cried. I always waited until you stopped yelling at me. You'd break off and you'd get this look of realization on your face, like you just realized you weren't just thinking those thoughts. You were actually saying them to me, quite loudly. You'd ask me to leave. And then I cried. When you closed the door on me. It was those times that I feed off of when you taunt me. Because I finally have...the guts to make you mad.

I guess before I was just scared I'd loose you.

You were acting out on me, right? You were doing what Kaiba-same did to you? Telling you that you were worthless. Because you're not. You took my stupid idea and made it a reality. To some extent. Looking into the holographic eyes of my Flames Swordsmen is invigorating in a tight match. It just sucks now, with your stupid rules, that Flames Swordsmen and Giltia the Dark Knight, two of my favorite cards, along with Thousand Dragon, are fusion cards.

I don't like being with people all that much anymore. Because I don't like silence. I think it's because of the way you always talked. So now I always talk. To fill that impending silence and pauses. I talk because that's how I feel better. To know that we're not caught in our thoughts.

Because everyone has voices, Kaiba.

Or, at least, I do.

I need the silence filled so I can't divulge in my thoughts. My thoughts that have turned somewhat twisted recently. And while I'm scared to have my father hit me and molest me, I also sometimes want it. Because I deserve it. And it sometimes feels twistedly good. Did you ever feel like that? Like it feels good to be embarrassed and have your pride broken?

Fetish. I think that's a word you used once. Or maybe I just picked it up. Is that what it is? God, why am I asking you? To let you know that your insults become sexually exciting? Godamnit, I hate you!

I hate this fucking control you have over me. You said you don't hold the fact I never said I love you against me. Well you know what? I hold the fact that you DID against me, because now I love you and will never stop.

And I swear, something's going to break. Whether it's me or not, I don't know. But it won't be you. I've already tried hard to get you to.

That night. That raining night. I remember it. For different reasons.

It was when my dad raped me for the first time in about five years.

It was the first night I dug a knife into my wrists.

It was the first night I wrote you a suicide note.

I've written a lot of them. It's become a ritual. Feel bad about myself, write you a note. Get in a fight, write you a note. Wake up late, write you a note. Feel stupid in class, write you a note. Watch a sad movie on TV, write you a note. I've saved each one. Each one is tucked into a shoebox, under my bed. Some have blood splattered on them, some have tears blurring the words, and all of them share my heart in some form.

This is the most recent one, the one I wrote last night when no one was calling me to hang out:

Kaiba--

It seems like ages since we last talked on normal terms.

I guess it's my fault, though it might not be. I imagine

it is. Everything always seems to be my fault. Is it my

fault you're not happy? I never told you this, but I

still love you. With all of my heart. I'd like to think

that if I lived through this time, you'd take this note to

heart and tell me you love me again. Even if you lie,

it'd be worth it to hear it. I'd love to hear you whisper

it as my life slowly drained out of me through my

wrist. Having you hold me close, tears splashing

down you cheeks. To know that you suffer with my

death as much as I suffered with my life. Then you'd

end it all, too. You'd take this knife and quote that

Shakespeare guy. "Oh happy dagger..." You said

that Romeo and Juliet died because they wanted to be

together no matter what. Even if it only was in death.

But how can they have such impending faith that

they'll be together, even in death? That's putting a lot

of faith in anything. That's risking everything.

Because, love, or no love, at least I get to speak to you

in life. At least I get to gaze at you in life. At least I get

to dream of you in life. But death would offer the

great reward. Saving myself from you. Saving myself

from heartbreak each day. And that is why this knife

will take my life.

This is why this knife will rob the life you imprisioned.

--Joey

Yes, I cut myself. The knife was too dull to go deep enough for myself to die. And my desire to die wasn't that strong last night. But I don't have much left. I'm sinking deeper and deeper into myself.

And I read the last paragraph again.

/_/That's the last time I saw you before that day in The Kame Game Shop. I mean, I saw you, but you know what I mean. I was cruel. I really shouldn't have said what I had. You know what I really wanted to do? I wanted to save you. The way you had saved me. That's what you really did for me. You saved me. I mean, yeah, you put me through a lot. I killed a man because of you. But in reality, you saved me. I'm sorry I couldn't realize that earlier. I really am. I don't hate you Joey. I hate myself. I really do. I really wish you loved me. Because I still love you.//_

I guess I glossed over it before.

And now I'm sitting here, staring at this stupid paper, not knowing what to write next.

~~~

Joey looked up from where he was staring at his letter, to see Kaiba watching him, carefully. "Joey..." he said softly.

Joey looked back down at the paper, looking over the words. "What are you doing here?" he asked in a ghostly, sick voice.

Kaiba slowly walked towards Joey, sitting down carefully. His eyes went over what Joey had written, catching the sight of the title. He turned to look at Joey, but his eyes were looking down and covered by his hair.

"It was puppy love, Kaiba. That's all," Joey's voice broke through, a sob trying to break through it.

"Then why do you look ready to die by just saying that?"

"I tired to forget. I tried forgetting the way your breath felt on my neck and the way your voice made me feel at peace. I tried to forget how the sun felt on our faces when we made out in the roses and I--"

Kaiba took Joey's face in his hands and turned him to look at him. Both of their eyes were filled with tears. "And?"

"And...I couldn't. No matter what I did."

"I don't want you to forget," Kaiba said softly.

Joey reached out and wiped Kaiba's tears away just as Kaiba reached to wipe his. They both looked down. "What are you doing here?" Joey repeated.

"Saving you," Kaiba whispered, taking Joey's scarred-up wrist in his hands. He ran his fingers over Joey's scars and veins. "Because I love you."

Joey looked up at Kaiba. "Don't say that. No one who's cute likes me."

Kaiba shook his head. "You dork." He leaned in a pressed his lips against Joey's.

Joey jumped up. "Don't do that."

Kaiba looked up, confused. "Why not, Joey?"

"You don't love me. I don't love you."

"Don't say that, Joey," Kaiba whispered. He caressed Joey's cheek. "I am so sorry that I ever hurt you."

Joey knocked Kaiba away. "I don't need love and I don't need you so get the hell out of my life!"

"How can you say that? Joey, people need love. I can tell you first hand, a life without love isn't worth living. There is a reason people seek each other in comfort. People can't live in solitude. People *need* other people." Kaiba took Joey by the hand.

Joey looked back at Kaiba, scared, confused, and just plain sad. "For what?"

"It's only in another person that someone can find warmth and kindness."

"A person can live without those."

"But would they want to? Two people can find satisfaction within each other. Why deny yourself of that?"

"Because it's easier not to care. It's easier to be alone. And it's easier to kick you out."

"But you won't."

"Watch me." Joey stood up and grabbed Kaiba by the arm, leading him to the door. "Get out."

"It's funny," Kaiba spoke, amused, standing outside the door.

"What is?" Joey asked nervously.

"My letter. It was called 'Why I Hate You,' and yet...I still love you. Yours is titled 'Why I Love You,' but here you are, telling me to leave because you think it's easier not to love."

"Get out," Joey repeated, this time slamming the door on Kaiba.

"I love you Joseph!" Kaiba yelled from the other side of the closed door. "Godamnit, I love you!" He hit the door hard. "Listen to me, Joey!"

"Big whoop!" Joey yelled back. "Call the fucking press, Kaiba isn't the cold-hearted billionaire he wants everyone to think he is! Get the fuck away from me!" he yelled. He leaned his back against the door, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Please, Joey, open up," Kaiba called, his voice getting an edge to it. He leaned against the door, running his hand down it, as if it was Joey.

"GET AWAY FROM HERE!" Joey yelled.

Kaiba laid his cheek onto the door, tears falling. "I'll tell the fucking consular, Joseph Wheeler. I'll tell that fucking bitch you cut yourself. And she'll call your dad and I don't give a shit if you get beat over it!"

"That's the difference between us, Kaiba! I was only trying to help!"

"Why would you do such a thing like that?" Kaiba called back, a sad smile growing on his face. A triumphant smile.

"Because I care about you!" Joey yelled angrily. His eyes widened. "I didn't mean that!" he yelled frantically, but it was too late, the damage was done.

"And I care about you!" Kaiba said, not longer yelling. He caressed the door, wishing it was Joey. "Please," he said softly. "Let me in."

Joey stood, quietly, crying. "Leave me alone."

"What's happen to you, Joey?"

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" He slammed his fist at the door.

"You're falling apart! You're fucking...loosing yourself, Joey! You have low self-esteem and you...just...you're not the person I knew anymore."

"Then leave. Because you're certainly not the Seto I knew."

"I've changed, I know. And you've changed. And I still love you. But I'm scared. I don't want you to--"

"To what? Kill myself?! If only you fucking knew!"

"Why? Why, Joey, god, please just tell me!"

"If I was to swallow my entire medicine cabinet, do you think anyone would care?"

"No, because there ain't shit in it, Joey!"

Joey smiled. "That isn't what you were suppose to say."

"What do you want me to say, Joey? I need you, Joey. And god, if you want me to wait, I'll wait for you, but I'm scared that you won't be alive tomorrow. You have bags under your eyes and your skin is yellowing and your arm is covered in cuts and scars."

"Yellowing?" Joey asked, confused.

"It's a natural occurrence to people who don't sleep or eat. You're fucking thinner than shit."

"Thinner than you?" Joey asked, amused.

"Not quite. You're body's not meant to be this thin."

"Oh. So I'm not pretty?"

"You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen, Joey. And the sexiest, and the...beautifulest."

"Even I know that's not a word."

"And the cutest."

"Kaiba..."

"And the sweetest."

"What are you doing?"

"And you have the softest skin with the silkiest hair and the most beautiful eyes."

"What are you doing? Trying to esteem me?"

"I'm just telling you the truth."

"So that's why you haven't mentioned my dueling skills."

"You just need to work on them."

Joey tore the door open, causing Kaiba to fall into him. "That was a very rude thing to say," he said in disbelief. He caught him before Kaiba could fall any more.

"It's the truth," Kaiba said weakly, looking up at Joey. He straightened himself and took Joey by the upper arms and pulled him close. "Please don't kick me out again." He stared into the puppy-dog eyes of his ex. "Please let me save you." Joey stared at Kaiba, shocked. He leaned against Kaiba, crying into his chest. Kaiba wrapped his arms around Joey, stroking the silkiest hair, petting the softest skin. "I love you, Joey. Don't ever let me hurt you again."


End file.
